


ask to be unbroken

by Kangoo



Series: Front toward enemy [10]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: (but only in the vaguest way possible), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Orpheus and Eurydice-ish, Resurrection, Sharing a Body, as in: razel kicks ass for love and profit, destiny gave me Severe Exposition Disorder, still no kissing! i'm bad at this romance thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: "That depends." She opens her arms as if to embrace him. Her smile takes a knife edge, her eyes so black he could fall through them. "How high a price are you ready to pay?""As high at it takes.""What is his life worth to you?""Everything.""What will you give for it?""Anything."Cayde isn't as gone as first believed to be and there's nothing Razel won't do to bring him back.





	ask to be unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> title from hozier's "to noise making" 
> 
> honorary mentions: "the light and the obstacle that casts it" (it will make sense as you read. or i hope so), "no grave can hold my body down" (obviously), "cayde's resurrection REDUX GOTY EDITION DIRECTOR'S CUT" (featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry series)
> 
> alright, I spent... way too much of my time on this. i wrote like 6.5k words in a single day. it's half past 3am as i'm writing this and i JUST finished editing it. enjoy.

You can’t summon a ghost. A ghost has to come unbidden, uncalled for, undesired; if you want it, it can’t haunt you.

– nathaniel orion g.k, Foxhole

 

In the wake of Cayde-6's funerals, Razel disappears.

His ship isn't docked, his course isn't registered, his com is offline. Nobody saw him leave.

They expect him to have gone after Uldren already, pursuing his claim on the traitor-prince’s life.

In truth, he sleeps. His ship drifts aimlessly through space, it's only destination the distant darkness at the edge of the system, the silence a heavy comfort to his mind.

His dreams echo with words whispered in the dark, a shot ringing through the quiet, a lightning-bright shockwave of light rushing through him.

He wakes up soaked in sweat, shivering and feverish, gasping a name without quite realising it. Clutching in his desperate hands the broken pieces of a Ghost, remnants of immortality pressed against the skin of his palm until it bleeds.

「Guardian?」

Cubix's curious voice drifts through the silence, too well-known, too much like his own to cut through the haze.

( _"Guardian?" Another voice, familiar and painful, the sting of a fresh wound. It clings to his mind like cobwebs, impossible to shake even if he wished to do so._ )

Eventually, in bouts of troubled sleep, he gets used to it. The disorientation, the choking fear. Regret settles between his bones and becomes a distant ache, ever present and almost comforting for it.

He keeps dreaming of Cayde.

A lot.

In his sleep, the same scene plays on a loop. His limbs are leaden, his throat dry. He’s never fast enough to block the bullet.

When he's awake, or a semblance of it, he sees him like an image left in his sight after staring at the sun. A different kind of ghost in the corner of his eyes as he stares into space. He doesn't turn his head, afraid there will be nothing there when he does.

Razel wants to be haunted so, _so much_. He wants to reach out and touch, feel the static-y emptiness under his fingertips, taste the bitter longing at the back of his throat.

He doesn't move. Cayde's ghost – not the proper one, the other, the infection of his soul – sits back-to-back with him, not quite touching but close. He smells like ozone and copper. More like the blood on Razel's tongue than himself at all.

It's a comfort nonetheless.

 

-

 

(He dreams of Cayde, or maybe he dreams as Cayde, through Cayde. The line between grief and madness is blurred and he can't, or won't, try to decipher on which side of it he stands.

In his dream there is a game. Allcohol in the air and cards in his hands. Information bet and traded like coins.

"All in," his opponent says. She's confident, but he's a better cheater. Her eyes flash with anger when he shows her his winning hand. What can she do when she saw no fool play?

Nothing. And a due is a due.

She tells him of a place far, far away, far enough that whatever name it used to bear is long lost to time. There's something, there. Or someone. A wish-granter for a price.

It's the kind of place you go to to bargain for the impossible. He doesn't forget.)

 

-

 

Cubix has been running diagnostics nonstop for days, dead sure there's something wrong but unable to find it.

(You can't diagnoses a haunting.)

「There's something wrong with you」 he tells Razel, 「Beyond the obvious. Like... A black hole in you, eating up all your light.」

He shrugs. He'd probably know if it was really bad. Or at least he'd notice when he'd start to explode or something.

「Do you think it's Uldren's fault, somehow? We can't fight him like this. We should talk about it to Ikora, she would know what-」

"Hey," he says. Cubix falls silent. It's the first time he's spoken since claiming Uldren as his to hunt.

(He's avenging a Hunter. The terms feels… Borrowed, but appropriate.)

"Do you trust me?"

Wisely, Cubix replies, 「Depends. What do you have in mind?」

He stares through the cockpit window. Coordinates swim in front of his eyes, gone in a blink, tasting of copper and static.

"A place," he says. “I think?”

「Sounds like a terrible idea. Let's go.」

 

-

 

(People are often under the impression that Cubix is the responsible one of the two.

He's the smart one. There’s a difference.

If he had a fraction of the wisdom others attribute him, he wouldn't follow Razel in half as many of his harebrained scheme as he does.)

 

-

 

Somewhere in the depth of space–

(Actually not that far from the Shattered Coast, all things considered)

–there is an old, old tower, so overgrown by the local vegetation it is all but swallowed by it. Thick vines have grown through the entrance, keeping the doors permanently ajar.

「That's... Ancient. From before the collapse. Maybe even before the Dark Age.」

Razel looks up – it's so high it hurts his neck to look at the top. Should he knock? Would anyone hear it from that far up?

Something warm squirms in his chest. It chases the uncertainty away. He throws his shoulders back and, with the kind of foolhardy courage only the truly powerful or truly stupid have, slip through the crack of the doors.

He isn't struck dead on his feet as soon as he does so he considers it a win.

"Told you so," he says.

「You very much did not.」

But he feels like it wasn't meant for Cubix as much as it was meant for himself.

 

-

 

They're prepared for the long, gruelling ascension to the top of the spire when a transmat pad lights up next to the stairs. It was hidden under vines and branches – the inside of the tower just as overgrown as the outside – but the light is unmistakable.

The surrounding bushes bloom with bright white flowers under their eyes. They flutter as if caught in a breeze, in time with the hum of the machine.

Razeldoesn't have enough survival instinct to pass on a shortcut to the hour of stairs he was about to go through.

「Are you sure-」

He's already stepped on it, careful to avoid squashing the fragile flowers.

The ground floor is drowned by white light. When it fades, they stand in a corridor – one far larger than the size tower should allow. It's... Vast. Downright cavernous, even, with a high vaulted ceiling and walls of pure white stone, barely seen under the vegetation climbing over every available surface.

Curtains of ivy cover the windows. He didn't notice from down on the ground, but they are made of tinted glass: the room is cast in a colorful kind of gloom, something he neither expected nor thought possible. 

The foliage grow thicker as they walk down the corridor, until it becomes a struggle to go through. Still a part of Razel tells him it's better if he doesn't disturb the vegetation. The thorns on some of those vines are an even better reason to be careful.

He can heal from anything. Doesn't mean he wants to impale himself on space rose bushes.

 

-

 

It takes forever and no time at all to attain the end of the corridor. He blinks and they’re here, hours or maybe seconds later. It’s hard to keep up with time when you’re immortal. Harder still when you’re dead, or dying, or have died, or are in the process of dying, he’s never sure which.

Lately he’s been stuck somewhere between the two, half dead half breathing. Cold inside and still warm in surface, like... food that wasn’t properly microwaved. Or some other, more poetic metaphor.

The corridor opens on a room so utterly invaded by plants it appears to be a third of its original size.

In its center sits a throne. Upon the throne sits a woman.

His first thought is that she is very beautiful. The light streaming through the stained glass windows paint her dark skin otherworldly colors, and in the gloom her eyes appear entirely black. She looks regal; for the briefest moment he thinks he understands how some could believe in the divine right of kings, back in the days.

Instinct tells him to kneel. 

He wouldn't stand here if he was the kind of guardian who listens to his survival instinct, though. He meets the woman's eyes head-on. She smiles at the audacity. Somehow the sight feels him with dread rather than relief.

"A visitor? What a pleasant surprise."

She beckons him closer. He stops mere feet away from her, dead leaves cracking under his boots. He fights to keep his face neutral–

( _Relax your shoulders, they betray you_ )

–but something tells him he's not fooling anyone. He keeps his hands behind his back to stop them from fidgeting.

"What is your name, child?"

"Razel. Ma'am."

"And what is it that you've come so far to ask for, Razel?" Her voice is quiet, soothing and smothering in turn like the dirt of the grave.

He fumbles for words for a moment. He didn't expect the question, although he obviously should have. But he's not even sure what he's here for, exactly.

In hindsight, he should have prepared a speech.

"Those who wander here never do so aimlessly. Tell me, guardian, what wishes lay in your heart?"

"Well- You see-" He blinks. "Wait. How did you know I'm a guardian?" It's not like she'd seen his Ghost, after all. 

It occurs to him ominous entities addressing him as ‘guardian’ rarely bear his best interest in mind. But maybe this once, just this once, she does! You never know.

Unexpectedly she chuckles, and it's nothing like her previous smile. It's… warm. Quiet, but genuine. The whole room seems to lighten with it. The rare rays of sunlight brighten; the plants around them shiver and unfurl in her direction. He’s pretty proud of himself for eliciting it.

Even more unexpected, she answers him. "I have met your kind before. Visitors are few and far in between out here, so they tend to stick in mind." She sighs, in a kind of nostalgic way. "And he was... Memorable. You feel like him, a little. Not just your Light, but your soul is- somewhat familiar."

"Another guardian came here?" He's not surprised. Well, he is, but in the way you are when someone tells you a fact you used to know and forgot. A "ha, right, that thing" kind of surprise. Guess nothing can truly surprise you when you've lived the kind of life he has.

"Not so long ago, either. Although to me, nothing ever happened quite that long ago." Makes sense. Can't be easy to keep up with the date when you live in a plant-tower in the dead-end of Nowhere, Space. "His name was Cayde-3."

_Cayde—_ He blurts out a question before he can think it twice. “Are you _sure_?”

She levels him with a stern glare. “I never forget, child. Neither a name nor a soul ever eludes me.”

That’s ominous. He doesn’t linger on it.

He blinks furiously as the pieces fall together, making the puzzle- well, no clearer than before. But now he has a headache, so that’s different. He thinks a part of him — the part that dreams up card games and coordinates — already knew, somehow.

「Cayde came here?」 Cubix asks as he reveals himself. He stays close to Razel, just in case. 「And some time ago, at that, if he was still at three.」

"What did he come for?"

"Lost memories he wished to recover. He found the price too high go pay and left empty-handed... although I suppose coordinates to my home could be considered a treasure of sort." She makes an annoyed sound, still managing to make it seem dignified. "You know of him then. He gave me his words not to divulge it to anyone. I thought him wise enough to _keep it_."

Cayde, wise? Never. Still, he won’t let her doubt Cayde’s promise, not when he put so much of himself in holding them.

"He- He didn't-" Razel chokes on his words. His gut twists, a painful knot of grief and anger.

Cubix takes pity of him.

「He didn't send us here. Cayde's... Cayde's dead. That's why we're here. Is that right?」

He turns to Razel, who nods his head jerkily. That sounds right, yeah.

The dark, dark eyes of the lady briefly dim, losing their jewel-like shine as she takes in the news. "Ah. I suppose it wasn't of natural cause, if you are here."

「He was murdered. By Prince Uldren, if you know of him.」

"And you seek vengeance?"

"I dream about him," he blurts out.

Cubix stops just as he was about to launch himself in an explanation. The Lady (she deserves the capital letter) tilts her head to the side like a curious bird but doesn't say a thing.

"I dream _of_ him- even when I'm awake. And I don't- I don't-" A frustrated noise rips out of his throat and he tugs at a loose strand of hair. "They tell me I should move on. But I don't know how to... I don't even know if I _want_ to? I just want him back. But he's gone and I keep seeing him and, and _being_ him, when I sleep, and I just..."

She mercifully stops him in his tracks with a raised hand.

"He may not be as gone as you believe him to be."

That doesn't sound very possible, seeing as Cayde–

(Died in his arms)

– is very much dead and, more importantly, buried, or at least in a casket.

「What do you mean by that?」

She rises. He fears, a second, that by doubting her words they have angered her, and something tells him her anger is not the kind you walk away from. But she only steps to his frozen form and lays a hand on his chest. He can't feel her touch through his body armor but he thinks it would be cold, despite the almost stifling warmth of the room.

"Guardians are the sum of their parts," she begins. Razel settles in for the long haul – people just can't resist lecturing him about stuff. "Three of them, to be precise. Light, body and soul. Once you are raised as guardians by your Traveler, they all become pieces of a great machine – dependant of the others to function."

"I don't see the connect-"

She looks at him, deadly quiet, until his jaw snaps shut.

"Your soul needs your body to anchor it to this world. Your body needs your soul to live. Both need light to stay together even through death – like two pieces of cloth sewn together." She gestures to Cubix with her free hand. "Your Ghost channels light from the Traveler to you and weave it around your soul, tying it to your body to bring you back to life, again and again."

Hey, he didn't know that. Cubix never told him how it worked.

... He probably thought it would be too complicated for Razel. He's not entirely wrong: he feels like this explanation is greatly simplified.

"The more you do it, the easier it is, isn't it?" Cubix makes an affirmative sound but she's already continuing. "That's because your soul learns to follow the light, because it knows its body is on the other end of it. It... Remembers the path, in a way."

「Oh, I think I see where this is going,」 Cubix whispers.

"Good for you," Razel, who doesn't see shit, replies in kind.

The Lady smiles, softer than before, with an emotion Razel can't even begin to decipher in her deep, dark eyes. "That's right. A guardian soul follow the light... Any light. Like a moth." Glamour. "And sometimes... Well. It follows the wrong one, and it ends up where it has no business to be."

「You can’t possibly mean-」

"Did he die near you?"

Razel has no idea where this is going and he's... Unsure whether he wants to know. "In... In my arms, yeah."

"And his Ghost was dead, severing his connection to the Traveler's light." She sure knows a lot about the inner workings of guardians, Razel thinks idly. "Then his soul, used to the process as it was, simply followed the most familiar path. It followed the light... _your_ light."

He blinks, confused. "Right. And that means..."

「That means Cayde's soul is inside of you,」 Cubix says, stuck somewhere between horror and wonder. 「You're… quite literally possessed.」

(Personally, he thinks it's more of a roommate kind of situation. But what does he know of possession, right.)

"The two of you must have been very close, for your two lights to be so similar." She has a weird glint in her eyes, like she knows something he doesn't. No surprise there. She probably knows a lot of things he can never hope to comprehend. “Did you love him?”

"Yes. I guess? I don’t know. He was-" He wants to turn his head – his eyes are burning, he doesn't want to cry in front of her – but she won't break eye contact and he can't, for the life of him, do it first. He swallows past the lump in his throat and manages to choke out a few words. "My best friend. My partner. I don't know."

"Then maybe you can do it.”

「Do... _what_?」

The Lady draws back, gesturing animatedly with her two hands. "Resurrecting him, of course." The two of them are too shocked to make a noise. She quirks an eyebrow. "What did you think you'd find here? Grief counseling?"

"I- kinda, yeah?"

「His Ghost is dead. It's impossible.」

Her entire demeanor shifts, from intense to... Mostly smug, almost mocking. "I'm a miracle worker. And you have his soul already. That's the hardest part."

Cubix is about to retort when Razel pushes him away, effectively shutting him up. "Can you do it?"

"That depends." She opens her arms as if to embrace him. Her smile takes a knife edge, her eyes so black he could fall through them. "How high a price are you ready to pay?"

"As high at it takes."

She leans forward and so does he, almost unconsciously following her lead. He ignores Cubix's objections. When she talks next, it's in a whisper, meant for his ears only.

"What is his life worth to you?"

The answer leaves him in a breath. "Everything."

Her fingers cradle his jaw, keeping him in place. "What will you give for it?"

"Anything. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, if it's mine to give."

She pauses, tilts her head. "Only that?"

"I can't- if you ask for Ikora's blood, I can't really bleed her to death myself. It's her choice to make."

"So you have limits, then." Another sad smile, but a mockery of one. A mockery of him. "Pity."

Her fingers linger a second against his skin before she starts moving away. Panic seizes him. She's his only hope–

(Cubix's protests, of course, go unheard.)

"Wait!" He reaches for her hand and stops a hair's breadth away from touching her. "Wait, I- please. Please, tell me the price. I will pay. Whatever it is, I will pay."

"What a good friend you are," she says, sounding as if she doesn’t think a word of it. "Lucky for you, I'm weak for a good love story." And at his confused stare, she adds, almost as an afterthought, "There are many kinds of love, young guardian, and you do not travel to the edge of the world to save the soul of a man you do not love."

Yeah, that's fair. Cayde was – is? – the best friend there is. He deserves that much.

"So, what do I need to do?" He asks urgently.

Cubix shakes Razel's hold on him and asks, wary, 「How do we know we can trust you?」

"You don't. Have faith." To Razel she says, "You need to find light from your Traveler."

"I already-"

"A guardian's worth of it."

Cubix makes a dejected sound.

He thinks about it for a moment. If he understood correctly...

"I have to... Get a guardian's light? That would kill them, though." He understood that much from her improvised lesson earlier. And from past experiences with the Hive.

"Precisely. A life for a life, child. And a guardian's life for a guardian's life."

What was the point of asking his name if she's not going to use it, he wonders.

Then, her words hit him. He shudders.

Killing a fellow guardian – not like in the Crucible but truly, utterly killing them – is proscribed. Taboo, almost. Even the most evil of guardians, and there were a few, are captured alive and kept under cryostasis. Killing a Ghost, severing a guardian's connection to light... It goes against the Traveler's will. It's treason of the highest order.

"I can't-" He stops. For Cayde... Could he?

To his great surprise it's Cubix who asks, 「What else?」

She gives them an almost approving look. "Not much, do not worry. I can make it so the light rushing out of a guardian at their death would go to this dead Ghost you carry. It would... Jumpstart it, like a defibrillator, and then you would just have to bring it back to its guardian to resurrect him."

「That's almost too easy.」

Razel is tempted to agree. Aside from killing a guardian, which can be done if he forgets about his morals for a little while, it's... Nothing out of the usual for them.

She clicks her tongue. "There are... constraints, naturally."

「So, what's the catch?」

She grins like a satisfied cat as she sits back in her throne. She crosses her legs gracefully, takes her time with her reply.

"If you die, it's over. His soul's hold on yours is tenuous. If yours were to leave your body... If it were separated from your light, however briefly, then his would undoubtedly let go. Your Ghost could bring you back, but him? He would be lost for good." She moves her finger in a circle. "Light needs soul, soul needs Ghost, Ghost needs light – its own light, which it can only find the through a connection to a guardian. It's all connected, see?"

Razel is not exactly known for being careful with his own life, but– he's a decent fighter. Killing another guardian – a trained, powerful, likely rogue guardian – without dying at any point would be difficult, but feasible.

"And you must be fast. Every hour his soul spends in your body makes it a little less his, a little more yours, as your light assimilate it." He can just feel his eyes glaze over a little. She frowns slightly. "Your soul and body are two pieces of cloth sewn together, making one... Shirt. Right?" He deeply appreciates her efforts to dumb this down for him. He nods. "Right now, his soul is just another piece of your shirt."

"But- doesn't my light... ‘sew’ those pieces together only when it heals me?"

How did this go from a bargain of souls to a lesson in immortality? By the Traveler but this much exposition only happens to him, he's sure.

「Your light is always healing you, though.」

"I don't get hurt _that_ much-"

「You really do, but that's not the point. Why do you think guardians don’t age?」

He shrugs. "Convenience?"

「Not... Ah. I meant 'how'.」 Razel gestures at him to go on. Obviously he doesn't know 'how', no one ever told him and it's not like he reads about it. 「Your cells decay as you age. Your light are constantly healing them, so you don't age. Simple.」

"And that constant healing... Is sewing Cayde's soul to mine?"

"Yes. Slowly, mind you, but healing large wounds, the kind you sustain in combat, would greatly accelerate the process." She steeples her fingers together. "And I'm sure I don't have to tell you what happens once the two souls are... Sewn together to one body."

「Yeah you do.」

"It sounds very ominous but also very vague." Although he can imagine some possibilities. Among those: Cayde's head growing out of his shoulder. He's not ready to become a two-headed monster. Even for Cayde.

"I don't know what would happen, actually. Necromancy is less of a science than a delicate art. But if I had to guess..." She claps her hands together. "Two souls distinct becoming one. The sum of two parts, different from both. A new person. I'm sure you're already starting to think or do things like him, aren't you?"

He thinks about it for a second but apart from more intrusive thoughts than usual... No, he's acting like himself.

「They're both morons, it's hard to tell.」

She waves it away. "It won't take long before it starts to show, don't worry. Or do, actually, this is very serious matter. You don't have that much time before the two souls become inseparable and this endless discussion is not helping the matter. So," She starts to count on her fingers. "The life of a guardian, be quick, don't die, don't heal yourself... I think that's about it. Are you up for it, child?"

For the first time since entering this tower, Razel doubts... and looks at Cubix. His Ghost appears disgruntled by the whole situation. But he seems reluctant to say anything and when he finally does, it sounds half-hearted.

「It's dangerous.」

"It's dangerous whether I'm doing it or not. Might as well try... try to save Cayde."

「You're right.」

Oh gloriously rare words to hear. He smiles to his Ghost and pets his shell clumsily. It feels like his heart is lodged in his throat. But he manages to speak, his flaming eyes more red than orange with the low light and something untold burning in them.

"I'll do it. I'll bargain with you."

 

-

 

(He digs the pieces of Cayde's Ghost from his side pouch and cradles them in his hands. He jerks when she touches them – but she doesn't, couldn't, damage them any further.

They shine bright white briefly before the glow sinks into the shell, disappearing entirely.

 

「What do _you_ gain from it?」 Cubix asks her as they're about to leave, the weight of a bargain sitting heavy behind Razel's breastbone. It feels like betting against Fate, and he’s not known for winning his Bets.

A secret smile, the first genuine one he's seen from her, he thinks. “I prefer love stories to tragedies.”

 

She sends them on their way with a pat on the head and a few words.

“Be brave, guardian. And remember: no amount of sacrifice can give you another chance if you blow this one off. Faith alone can’t save a soul once it’s gone back to the Void.” She sounds infinitely sad as she adds, “You can’t love someone back from the dead. No matter how hard you try.”

They still echo in his mind as they fly off.)

 

-

 

They’re in deep space when it hits him. He collapses to the floor of his ship, shell shocked, and curls on himself. He presses a hand against his chest as if hoping to hear another heartbeat, beating to the rhythm of another name whispered in the dark.

(Cayde, Cayde, Cayde)

He only hears his heart, though. _Ba-bump, ba-bump_. Ra-zel, Ra-zel.

Or maybe they both beat to the same name. Wouldn't be the first time Cayde made his heart miss a beat.

"I'm gonna bring you back," he tells the ghost at his back. Doesn't dare turn around, yet, fearful of losing him so soon after finding him again. "I'm gonna save you this time."

_Ba-bump, ba-bump_. His heartbeat echoes in his ears, a war drum or a name, he's not sure.

He presses dry lips against the inert Ghost, the one he can hold in the palm of his hands. Whispers a promise against its cold metal shell, hoping it will be enough.

 

-

 

After comes the issue of finding a lightbearer to kill. They could hardly walk up to any random guardian and kill them, no, could them?

"We should… Go to the tower. Ask for intel on rogue Lightbearers."

「Oh, by all mean. Go ahead. Tell the Vanguard you want to commit one of the worst crime possible for a guardian. See how they react.」

Just imagining the look of disapproval on Ikora's face, Zavala's definitive 'no'... In hindsight he's not exactly eager to go back. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?

He was kind of counting on their intel though.

"How are we going to find a- target?"

It's easier than expected to think of a fellow guardian as a target, another bounty to hunt. At the end of the day the only difference between them and those they usually kill is... Slim. They all have languages, traditions, people they care about.

(In theory. Who knows what goes on in the hive mind of, well, the Hive. Or the Vex.)

And they’re all a threat to humanity. He has to keep that in mind. He’s just fighting another threat.

Cubix falters at his wording, but not for long. 「I don't know. Ask Petra, maybe? I don't know how much she's involved in guardian business, but...」A pause as he thinks about it.「No, she wouldn’t know. Is- does Cayde have any tip?」

Razel freezes. His first instinct is to tell him Cayde is dead, that's why they're doing this whole thing to begin with, but–

He isn't really, is he? There's still a part of him here, in Razel. Terrifying as the notion might be.

It's worth trying, at least. He closes his eyes. Tries to look on the inside of himself, to meditate the way Ikora taught him. Thinks very hard about Cayde and evil lightbearers and what one would know about the other. Something squirms behind his ribs–

Nothing.

"Oh, come on!" He pokes himself in the chest, scowling. "We're doing that for you, the least you could do is give us a hand."

Still nothing. He's starting to think this is not how this whole cohabitation works. He wishes it came with an instruction manual. _So you've picked up a soul stowaway: what to expect from a possession_.

Cubix lets out a sigh. It's a very human habit, that. Razel has no idea where he picked it up, but the way he does it is oddly reminiscent of Ikora so he can hazard a guess.

"We could try to call Asher?"

「We could, but... Why.」

"He knows stuff?"

「Yeah. About the _Vex_. Not rogue lightbearers who committed the kind of crimes worthy of _death_!」

“Well, I’m out of ideas.”

They both sink into silence. They don't know that many people in contact with the seedier parts of humanity. They only knew one, actually.

Cayde.

He flattens his hand against his chest and breathes in slowly, willing the painful knot of grief away. Cubix bumps against his shoulder in a comforting manner.

「I'm gonna do some research.」

"Thanks, buddy."

He hopes they have the time for it.

 

-

 

「Adelius Vex, killed the other members of his fire team and disappeared in the wilds. No sightings since then. Astrid Calper, sold guardian patrol schedules to a Fallen Kell. Killed in a skirmish between two fallen houses...」

Razel cuts him before he can read the whole thing out loud. "Is there any of them we can actually find?"

Cubix read through the list of rogue lightbearers he managed to compile, just in case it would reveal any new information. It doesn't. 「Not really. They're all either very well hidden or very dead. And that's only those who committed actual crimes.」

"We're could go after Osiris." 

「We’re not going after Osiris.」

Fair enough.

Silence lingers as Cubix reads through the list over and over again, looking for an opportunity that might not be there.

Would Razel kill an innocent, for Cayde?

Could he live with himself, knowing what he did? Could _Cayde_ , knowing what was done for him?

If it came to this–

「Wow, some of them are real basket cases.」

He shakes out of his dark thoughts and focus on Cubix, grateful for the distraction.

"Like?"

「Like... Sevi, a Hunter who sacrificed her fireteam to a Hive ritual. Remember Savathûn’s Song? The big Shrieker?」

"Yeah?"

「Taeko-3’s team was sent in when Sevi’s stopped responding. One guardian was still alive when they got here, told them everything that happened.」

Light, this mission was a disaster. How many casualties do that make? Five dead, one banished? No, that can’t be right, there were too many dark crystals. Razel shudders. How many more, had him and Lek not succeeded at silencing Savathûn’s Song?

He summarizes the thought with a simple, "That's fucked up. Any idea where she is now?"

「Last seen near the Cosmodrome, few months after that mission. That's a long time for a fugitive to stay in one place. She could be anywhere by now.」

Privately, Razel thinks there aren't many reasons for her to move. She's only a fugitive in the barest sense of the word. There isn't anyone hunting her down.

Wasn't, until now.

"Let's try anyway," he says, setting course for Earth. "It's not like we have a better lead anywhere else."

 

-

 

Russia is still as much of an irradiated shit hole now as it was back when Cubix awoke him. At least around the Cosmodrome.

There are fewer Fallen, though. That's a plus.

「Do you think she was trying to find a ship?」

"How did she go from Titan to here if she didn't have a ship already?"

「That's... A good point. Did Cayde come up with it?」

"Hey, I have ideas too! Sometimes." A pause. He pokes his chest, wondering. He feels as if the warmth is growing, like the barrel of a gun heating as you fire it. "And I don't think that's how it works." Unfortunately.

They landed a few miles from the Cosmodrome, just in case. His Sparrow flies over the landscape with a soft mechanical hum. He feels himself relax in it, as if the wind knocked something loose in him.

The Cosmodrome is still some distance away when he stops. There's a thrumming low in his veins. The anticipation of battle. He recognizes it the way he recognizes his Daybreak, a spark-like antsiness that makes him want to fidget, a finger on the trigger or the edge of a blade.

He doesn't know where it comes from, himself or Cayde's lingering touch at the edge of his mind. They've always been similar in that aspect. That's why they well worked together.

(Will work well together again).

He rolls his head, shakes his fingers, made jittery by a familiar kind of craving. The blood pumping in his ears is all Cayde: he always feel like that when they fight together. Cayde turns every mission in a chase, makes himself the hunter rather than the prey no matter how dire the circumstances. Razel learned to enjoy it, faster than most are comfortable with. He enjoys fighting, loves winning and likes a challenge. It’s not a stretch that he would take well to hunting, or rather Hunting, the guardian kind.

"Let's get inside, see if you can get a hold on her scent."

They haven't even crossed the door of the Cosmodrome that Cubix beeps warningly. 「Someone was here. Recently.」 He scans their surroundings, cataloging unseen clues.

The building is cluttered with junk and the bare skeletons of ships and Light knows what else the Fallen hoards in there. There isn't enough place in there for a full-blown sword fight, though it offers plenty cover if a firefight were to break out — which it inescapably will. Half of him hopes they track her down to somewhere less cramped. The other half wishes for a quick resolution, and reloads his shotgun.

The corridors they scour are dark, filled with rubble and dead Fallen. Cubix scans their surroundings, ever vigilant, but there is a pretty clear path of devastation to follow. It leads right to a closed door. Light filters the through the gap – artificial light.

A wiser man would stop and plan his next move. He walks in with his gun drawn.

He hasn't made two steps inside the storage room before hearing the tell-tale _click_ of the security of a gun coming off, just behind him.

"What do you want?" A voice calls out. Feminine, raspy from disuse.

That's their target. Probably.

Razel lifts his hands above his head, his gun still loosely held in one. He tries to channel Cayde's easy confidence as he replies, "Just to talk. Are you Sevi?"

A growl. He'll take that as a yes.

"Nobody comes here to _just talk_." She says the words as if the mere thought disgusts her.

And nobody goes through that much effort for a friend, yeah, he got it. He's just an exception to many rules... and allergic to half measures. "I swear. I'm a guardian too." She seems to relax at that. Guardians don't kill other lightbearers, even dangerous ones.

"I'm not a guardian," she gruffly replies. "Turn around. _Slowly_."

He obeys, keeping his hands high and his shoulders lax. Finally he gets a good look at her.

She looks like hell. Her blond hair is dirty and choppily cut, her face drawn with exhaustion. Life on the run hasn’t been kind to her.

Razel hopes this won't be him in a few months.

She digs the barrel of her riffle in his chest.

"Nice gun."

"Shut up. What're you here for, _guardian_?"

He has no idea how to say "to kill you for an obscure resurrection ritual" in a way that wouldn't get him killed on the spot. As previously stated, he did not barge in here with a plan.

Oh, fuck it.

(Nothing good ever comes of Razel saying 'fuck it'. The only thing to ever come out of it are his internal organs once he's been gutted like a fish by a gladiator he tried to fight with his bare hands.)

He goes for the next worst and decides to antagonize her.

"Curiosity. Is it true you killed your fire team? How's your conscience?"

She snarls. Her eyes glint with fear and madness. Maybe she took their death harder than he first thought. Or maybe it’s the new fear of death, with a sleeping Ghost. That’s what they do, when their guardians go against the Traveler’s will: they sleep, because they can’t die and they can’t support their guardian’s actions.

"I did what I had to do to survive," she says through gritted teeth. Her finger spasms on the trigger. "They were going to die anyway. I just assured _I_ wouldn't. The Vanguard had no right to kick me out!"

"The Vanguard has the right to do whatever they want, they're our bosses," he helpfully points out. And it's _their_ job to choose when to listen to them... Or ignore them and do what seems best. He likes to think their orders are usually up to interpretation.

She squints at him. "You're here to kill me, aren't you? Had a friend in there?" Her grip shifts minutely. "Was it Rodriguez? Mikki? Or are you just a self-righteous prick, fighting for _good_ and _light_ and-"

He pulls the trigger. 

The light above their heads shatter, plunging the room in darkness, and throws himself to the side. Bullets rip through the space he was in. One goes wide and manages to strike him in the side, just below his body armor. It's a glancing shot but it leaves a deep gash in his flesh. Hot blood gushes from the wound.

He can deal with that later, when Cayde is safe and sound in his own body.

He breaks his fall with a roll, jumps to his feet, almost trips on rubbles and empties a full clip in her direction. By the sound she makes at least one bullet hits. Good. He crouches — more like falls to his knees — behind a fallen shelf until—

There. The sound of an empty magazine hitting the ground. He jumps over his improvised cover and runs across the space, deftly avoiding the obstacles now that his eyes have adapted to the darkness. She rises over her own cover. He takes aim–

_click_

Empty. 

He forgot to reload. 

Why does this keep happening to him?

He throws the gun at her. She doesn't expect it and doesn't think to dodge. It hits her squarely in the shoulder, throwing her back half a step.

He uses the distraction and takes his shotgun out. In a second he's on her, pulling the trigger. The recoil wrenches his arm back and the butt of the rifle hits his side with a bruising force. It sure packs one hell of a punch, but— he’s pretty sure he dislocated his shoulder, or will soon enough if he keeps firing. 

That’s what you get for not testing your weapon mods before using them in the field.

Good news is, Sevi is thrown back by the impact too. She hits the floor with a dull _thud_ and slides a few feet, leaving a trail of smeared blood in her wake. But she's a trained fighter, only on the run for a few months. Still in fighting shape. She’s lifting her gun again before even hitting the ground. Her aim doesn’t waver as she falls.

He's fast, but not fast enough. Two bullets graze his unprotected arm. A third embeds itself in his body armor, either bruising or breaking one of his ribs, by the feel of it. The rest goes wide, whizzing past his ears and ricocheting off the walls.

He follows after her, fires again, tries to compensate for the recoil and only ends up twisting his wrist. The pain is a burst of fire up his arm, numbing him from the wrist down. He shakes his hand and winces at the ache. Not broken, then, but sprained at the least.

Sevi gasps, one hand pressed against her bleeding chest. At the rate she’s bleeding, she won’t last long. Still she scrambles back, snarling a wordless challenge through bloody teeth. One look at him relentlessly approaching and she and throws her riffle away. Surrendering? No, she fumbles for her sidearm. Her hands are slick with blood but her grip is firm as she shoots him, quick, efficient, deadly, still the perfect Hunter.

Part of him is proud of her abilities. The rest just wants her to die already.

A bullet ricochets off his helmet and leaves a crack in the glass. Two more go into his chest. He stumbles back and grunts in pain. Definitely at least one rib broken now. He’s only thankful she didn’t keep her rifle. Shot at point blank, the bullets would definitely have gone right through his body armor.

(It’s not that protective. Warlock armors rarely are. They’re built for speed and quick recuperation, not endurance. Maybe he should start wearing Titan armor.)

He prepares to fire again, aiming for her unprotected head, but she's quicker. She twists her hips, throws her legs up and, by some gymnastic bullshit, manages to kick the shotgun out of his hands. It clatters to the ground all the way on the opposite side of the room.

She’s on her feet again, wobbly but standing nonetheless. That wouldn’t be so bad, but she has a gun, and he doesn’t anymore. His sword is heavy on his back but impossible to wield in such a tight space. So he throws herself at her. 

She aims lower, shoots him in the leg as she tries to get away. He stumbles, pitches forward. On this he’s lucky: they’re so close he falls over her, keeping himself up and her in range. His fist burns golden, fire licking at his fingers. He punches her in the face in a shower of sparks.

Her head is thrown back by the hit and he takes advantage of that to wrestle the sidearm from her wet fingers. He's not exactly dexterity incarnate himself, his entire right arm throbbing with pain, but in their fumbling they both drop the gun. He kicks it away before she can make a grab for it.

He tries to punch her again and she blocks his blow, holding his hand inches from her face. Blood runs down her chin from her split lip.

She throws her arm up. The glass of his helmet breaks under her elbow guard, the bottom half falling in shards. She twist around, trying to find a better angle without letting go of his wrist.

He headbutts her.

There's the sickly _crack_ of cartilage breaking under his hard helmet. It doesn't break her hold, though, and she spits blood in his uncovered face.

"Bitch," she grits out. He grins, sharp as a knife.

Her kicks her knee with steel-toed boots. It cracks and she yell in pain as she goes down. She brings him with her, still snarling, her free hand caught in his high collar. Another gymnastic twist of her hips roll them over until she’s on top, pinning him down.

What kind of pain tolerance–

She claws at his neck, trying to get through the protective layers to choke him, and rips his helmet off for good in her efforts. He knees her in the guts in retaliation. It knocks the wind out of her and she slumps over him, gasping and retching in pain. Oh, right. The shrapnel. Cool.

Blood drips from her mouth on his cheek. He frees his hand from her grasp and grasps her throat, five burning fingers clutching her vulnerable trachea. She flails her arms around. Her hands reaches for her boots–

And come out with knives.

Of course she has knives. She was a Hunter.

One slices through his thigh, leaving a trail of white-hot pain. He tries to jerk her away from it, and the second knife only stabs him in the side rather than the chest where she was aiming.

His breath leaves him in a rush. His pain tolerance is off the charts, there are times where he can even believe he doesn't feel pain at all–

But fuck, she hits hard.

He throws her off him. She slams into the wall, gasping for air through a bruised throat for a second. A second is all he needs. He's on her as she's scrambling to her feet and her chin meets his knee with another _crack_ from her jaw, breaking at the impact. She slumps back down, dazed.

He falls on top of her, straddling her stomach.

"Nothing personal," he gasps out.

Then he rips the knife out of his side and stabs her in the throat. 

He holds on with two hands on the hilt and doesn't let go until she's stopped thrashing around and all life leaves her eyes. Blood soaks his clothes, from his gloves to his knees and chest. Most of it is hers.

Once he's sure she's not getting back up he lets himself slide to the side. He collapses in a heap next to her cooling body, panting through the lacerating pain in his chest Every breath hurts. Light, _everything_ hurts. He's not used to it.

He's been relying on his Ghost too much.

Next time he's in the City, he's joining the Crucible. He needs some training.

But right now he just wants to rest for a while. Just close his eyes, for five minutes...

Through half-lidded eyes he sees Cubix fly out from his hiding place, a too-bright flash of blue light after the darkness. He hovers in front of his face, bobbing up and down worryingly.

「Razel! Are you alright?」

He coughs. Blood splatters on the ground, mixing with Sevi's. He looks at it with detached annoyance before he lifts himself on his arms. The right one gives out under him and he groans.

"Yeah, I'm- Peachy."

「Oh, Traveler, you're bleeding... Everywhere, actually. Come on, let me heal you.」

"No! No,” he rasps. “Don’t. You can’t- can’t risk Cayde.”

Cubix remains silent. Then, another sighs, oddly human.

「Fine. Let’s do it, then. The sooner we’re done here the sooner we can bring him back and heal you.」

Razel manages a nod. The simple movement makes pain flare through his skull. One too many hit to the had, seems like. But the splitting headache is nothing compared to the pain in his chest… shoulder… leg… entire body. Traveler, he hasn’t felt this bad since he got his light stripped from him.

They’re in somewhat of a hurry, though, so he’ll have to complain about it later.

To give himself a moment to adjust, he rolls over and half heartedly pats down Sevi’s body. No suspicious lump or weight from a Ghost in her pocket. Thought as much. It must be hidden somewhere else.

Alright.

No point wasting anymore time.

Let’s do this.

He takes a shuddering breath and slowly, painfully, climbs to his feet. He stands there a second, swaying slightly, battling down the sudden nausea. This isn’t normal, he shouldn’t feel that much pain, even without healing—

Well, no point wondering about that now. He gathers his strength and limps out of the room, only stopping to pick up his guns on the way out. He puts the shotgun back in its holster and holds the hand cannon in a loose grip, just in case. He hopes they won’t meet any resistance: in this state he wouldn’t be capable of hitting a Cabal soldier at point-blank range, let alone a horde of Fallen.

He flicks a fire grenade into the room on his way out. Friend-killer or not, Sevi doesn’t deserve to rot away or get eaten by Fallen. And this way he’s _sure_ she’s dead.

Cubix flies ahead, taking the rare risk of leaving his side to scout for Sevi’s Ghost. Razel follows slowly, holding on to walls, closer to dragging himself along than walking. At least it’ll be easy to get back out: he’ll just have to follow the bloody handprints on the walls.

「I think I found her room. It might be in there.」

Razel slumps against the door to open it wide enough to go through and stumbles into the room. He slumps over her bags and goes through them as quickly yet meticulously as he can manage, with Cubix serving as a flashlight. He almost feels guilty for the smears of blood he leaves on everything he touches, but it’s not like she’ll be around to complain about it.

He finds her Ghost at the bottom of a bag, resting on top on top of her folded cloak. All that’s left of her life as a guardian in one convenient package.

It’s alive but inert. Ghosts of rogue or treacherous lightbearers tend to do that; go into a sleep-like stasis, not dead but not… _not_ dead, either. They don’t sense anything, that way. It didn’t even notice her death. 

He brushes his thumb against its ‘eye’ before putting it back down.

Cubix doesn’t speak as he takes the pieces of Sundance out of his pocket. Already she’s thrumming with some kind of energy — has been since Sevi breathed her last. She feels heavier in his palm, less like a broken toy. Not quite warm, not quite cold. Room-temperature Ghost, tingly like static electricity.

Not dead, but not _not_ dead. That’s what he’s trying to change.

He holds her in his hand. With the other he aims at the inert Ghost. Breathes in slowly, despite the pain it elicits. His hand doesn’t shake.

For Cayde.

He fires.

 

The Ghost dies in a burst of blinding blue light that is becoming all-too familiar. It’s warm and cold at once as it washes over Razel, almost knocking him over, soothing his pain for the briefest moment. The light expends to the edges of the room before swirling around them like a cyclone and sinking into Sundance. It runs over her in ripples. For a second, nothing happens. Then her pieces lighten and reattach themselves to her core as it becomes magnetic again. She warms up, slowly, like a machine slowly powering up. Finally her core lights up, a muted glow rather than her usual brightness.

She’s not dead. Not dead, but not awake. Alive, but dormant. Waiting for her guardian.

Waiting for Cayde.

Razel’s entire body seems to lighten in sheer, breathtaking relief. He closes his fingers around her, careful as if she were spun glass yet tight enough for her edges to dig through his gloves and into his skin. The faint sting goes unnoticed as he pressed his fist against his chest. He hopes the piece of Cayde behind his ribs can feel the gentle warmth of it.

He hopes Cayde holds on for just a little longer.

Cubix nudges Razel’s cheek gently.

「Let’s go.」 

He sounds infinitely sad, but there’s a steel-edge of resolve in his voice.

Razel nods and limps back out of the room, still clutching Sundance against him. He only stows her away in his pocket for safe keeping once they’re out of the Cosmodrome. He summons his Sparrow and half-straddles, half-slumps on it. He lets Cubix guides him back to the ship.

He goes home.

 

-

 

Two weeks is what it takes for Razel’s ship to dock in the City after Cayde’s death. And when it does, Ikora and Zavala are both there, waiting for their disappeared friend. 

They’re worried. Obviously. This radio silence isn’t like him; he’s prone to dropping off the map, but he never cuts communication with the Tower. Never cuts communication with— 

_Cayde_.

His death hit all of them hard, but none as hard as Razel. They were… close. Most times, Cayde was Razel’s only reason to come back to the Tower. The only one he truly saw a point in seeing face to face. And he’d never lost anyone before Cayde, not like they did. There’s no telling how he reacted, beyond a simple _poorly_.

The only thing they’re sure of is that he hasn’t killed Uldren, not yet. The man is still alive, or so Petra assures them. They expect anything else — after all, anything is possible with Razel.

They _don’t_ expect him to come stumbling out of his ship, looking more dead than alive, dripping blood in his wake. He makes it about three steps onward before collapsing to the ground, his Ghost circling around him in a frenzy.

Ikora is the first to run to him, Zavala quick on her heels. Amanda Holliday, attracted by the noise, joins them seconds after.

「Razel! _Razel_! Get up, we’re almost there, come on-」

“What’s going on, Ghost?” Zavala barks, worry etched over his features. “Why aren’t you healing him?”

「I am! As much as he’ll let me!」

Ikora kneels next to Razel. He’s curled on his side, as if protecting his chest — or something held against it. She puts a hand on his forehead, her mouth twisted in a frown. “Razel. What’s happening? Why aren’t you letting Cubix heal you?”

The guardian takes a wet, shuddering breath and rasps out, “Can’t. Too dangerous. Don’t have time… Can’t die, can’t-”

He turns glassy eyes to Ikora and painstakingly lifts his hand. It’s clenched so tight his fingers are white. She holds it, keep it from shaking, and he relaxes his hold to show her what he holds so preciously.

It’s… A Ghost. A live, if dormant, Ghost.

She stammers, unusual for the usual calm and collected Warlock Vanguard. “How- _Sundance_?”

He grins, all joy and bloody teeth. “I did it. I brought her back.”

「We just need to get you to him. Almost there, buddy,」Cubix says soothingly. 「But you need to get up for that.」

The two Vanguards look at each other, vaguely confused. Amanda, on the other hand, is already moving. She drags Razel up by the armpits and sling his arm over her shoulder without a second glance to them. She has a look of utter concentration on her face, as if she’d cry if she wasn’t focusing on holding him up.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She asks the Vanguards, already moving. “Let’s go before he bleeds out.”

Zavala walks up to them. A quick look at Amanda — as if asking for permission — to which she nods. He gathers Razel in his arms and strides toward the cemetery.

It’s a large room, filled with neat rows of caskets marked with emblems, helmets, cloak; anything to help remember the dead. They lost so many in the Red War, they didn’t have time to make headstones for most of them. Guardians got used to marking emplacements with any other mean. It stuck.

Cayde is only the latest casualty in a very long year of tragedies. But he was a Vanguard, a friend beloved by many and something of a mentor to countless Hunters. As such his grave is covered in flowers, playing cards, cups of instant ramens, bullet casings and other tokens. Offerings and gifts to a man who was and remain, even in death, larger than life. 

Zavala puts Razel down next to the casket, careful not to jostle him too much. Razel doesn’t seem to care: he clambers to his feet, clinging to the grave to hold himself up, one hand still clutching Sundance. He swipes his arm over the lid, sending the offerings clattering to the ground before he collapses again.

“Wait-”

“I need- his _body_ ,” he says urgently. “She can’t raise him if she can’t reach him-”

She’s dormant, Zavala wants to say. Light knows if she’ll ever wake up, or if her regained light will fade once again. But he claws at the lid, heedless of that fact, looking more dead than the body inside.

Ikora walks to his side and, without a word, opens the casket.

They… _repaired_ Cayde’s body before ‘burying’ him. They left the fatal shot as-is, in a last favor to a man who bestowed everything he owned to the one who killed him. He looks peaceful despite it. He looks the same as always, as if he were seconds from opening his eyes

Razel breathes out a thank as he climbs back to his feet. His body is wracked with shiver, blood already forming a puddle at his feet. A guardian in such a state is a rare and disturbing sight, let alone Razel, who has garnered a reputation for not feeling pain. Yet when he puts Sundance down on Cayde’s chest it’s with infinite care and gentleness, as if unaware of his own body slowly collapsing under him. Pulled forward by force of will alone.

She glows a gentle blue over his dusty body armor.

Nothing happens.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” he whispers. Cubix pushes against his neck in comfort. “She didn’t tell us what to do- How do I make it work?”

He pokes Sundance. She doesn’t stir.

Ikora puts a hand on his shoulder. “Razel-”

He shakes her off, or maybe he collapses forward, they’re not sure. He curls over Cayde, gasping. “No, no, I did everything right- it’ll work, it has to work-”

For a long, terrible moment, it almost seems as if a miracle will happen. As if Cayde will jump out of his grave and yells, ‘Sike! I knew you’d cry, big guy’.

But… nothing.

He’s just… dead.

Razel crumbles. His knees give out from under him and a sob rips through his chest, as painful to hear as it must be to feel. “No, no, no, _no_ , come on, Cayde, fuck-” Hot tears run down his cheeks, leaving clean paths in the blood dirtying his face. Softer, he says —begs— “Please, come back, come back, I can’t- don’t leave me, please, please, come back, you’re my best friend, I need you to come back-”

_You can’t love someone back to life._

Like hell he can’t.

(When did he ever let himself be stopped by ‘can’t’?)

“Please. I love you. Come back.” The words rush out of him, so genuine he would be taken aback if only he didn’t realize, in hindsight, how obvious they are. So quiet it almost goes unheard, a desperate plea more than anything else, he repeats, “ _Come back_.”

(And thinks, “ I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. I love you beyond life and memories. I love you like I’ve always known you, like I’ve loved you before and never learned to stop. I love you like the moon loves the Earth: blindly, naturally, eternally. Because it’s the only thing there is for me to do; because if I didn’t, I’d would be nothing.”

But he doesn’t say it. Such words are a little out of his grasp, even now. But they ring in his heart like notes plucked from a harp, clear and true.)

His shoulders drop. He clings to the casket for dear life and curls a desperate, shaking hand on Cayde’s chest.

A second passes. Then another. And then—

Light, no longer blue but golden, bursts out of Sundance. It passes through Razel, flooding his veins and making them glow like molten metal through his skin. It burns brightest in his chest before fading— no, traveling from his chest to his arm, pooling in his hand before it sinks into Cayde, glowing through the cracks of his mechanical body, inside the bullet wound.

The three onlookers take a step back and watch in stunned silence.

Three things happen all at once.

Razel seizes, his entire body tensing as if turning to stone before he collapses for good, like a puppet whose strings were cut, his arms slipping off the casket as he drops to the ground.

Sundance flies in the air, whirling furiously as she takes her bearings.

And Cayde—

Cayde wakes up.

 

-

 

Cayde promptly passes out again.

Him and Razel are both carted to the medical bay by two baffled Vanguard and one shell shocked Holliday, who has yet to get used to guardian shenanigans.

The two Ghost, one confused and recently revived, the other frantic and frenzied, whirl around their respective guardians, working hard to heal them. Sundance weaves Cayde’s body, soul and light back together in one beautiful piece of necromantic tapestry. Cubix tries to undo damages he was forced to overlook for way too long, only healing Razel the barest amount necessary to keep him alive and somewhat-functioning.

And if Sundance sometimes give him a hand in patching Razel up, and if Cubix maybe tie a few light-stitches for her as they jump from guardian to guardian, well. Either no one notice or no one cares enough to ask about it at the moment.

They have to be quick: if Razel dies now, before Cayde is entirely back in his body, there’s no telling what will happen. But they’re Ghosts, and they’re damn good at what they do. Neither guardian dies, just this once.

The room they were dumped in is locked, with only Ikora, Zavala and Holliday to watch the two Ghosts work. Still they manage to form a crowd as they surround the two beds and wait.

Just… Wait.

For a long time. 

(Longer than a resurrection ever takes. But then again, this is a singular case.)

Finally, it’s Cayde who wakes up first.

He groans weakly and sits up, looking for all accounts and purpose like a man living through the worse hangover of his existence, but… _living_. He rubs his head with a pained sound and open his eyes a sliver, wincing at the bright light.

“Hey, lil’ buddy,” he greets Sundance as she flies to the crook of his neck and cuddles here. Then he lifts his head and blinks in surprise. “Hey, you guys. What’s going on? What’s with the face? Where the hell am I?” A pause. “Am I wearing pants this time? Please tell me I’m wearing pants this time.”

Zavala swallows with difficulty. Ikora manages to croak out a strangled, “ _Cayde_.” But it’s Holliday who says, more shocked than anything,

“What happened to your _eye_?”

Cayde opens mismatched eyes wide — one his usual blue, the other a fiery, familiar orange. “What?”

That’s when Razel startles awake.

No one gets to explains to Cayde what’s happening with his eyes because as soon as Razel realizes he exists as a living, breathing entity in this world he throws himself out of bed, gasping, “Cayde! Where’s-”

“Razel!”

Razel stumbles, gets tangled in the sheets of his bed and falls on his face. He scrambles up, shaking his legs with increasing violence until he finally manages to free himself, and climbs back on the bed, only to throw himself across the gap and into Cayde’s arms. Cayde opens his arms just in time to catch him and falls back on his back with all the weight of a fully grown, fully armored guardian bearing down on him. And hugging him like an overly affectionate octopus. He seems to grow more arms in the only goal of smothering Cayde to death with his affection.

“Hey, buddy. I’m… Happy to see you too?” He says.

“You’re back, Cayde, you’re back, it worked, you’re _back_!” He rambles on, ignoring him. His voice is filled with so much delight and relief Cayde can only hugs back in confusion.

“Where did I go to?” He asks, looking over Razel’s shoulder to the other three.

Razel, until then busy nuzzling into Cayde’s neck like a mutant, touch-deprived kitten, freezes. Cayde senses the change — how could he not, with all of Razel’s body covering his — and runs his fingers through his hair in what he hopes is a comforting manner. This is… way more physical contact than he’s used to. He’s tactile, sure, but not exactly a _full-body hug_ kind of guy. Neither was Razel last time he checked. 

Still he must do something right, because dome tension bleeds out of Razel’s shoulder. He mutters something against Cayde’s shoulder.

“What?”

“You were _dead_ ,” Razel repeats, with so much anguish and fear in his voice even Zavala feels sorry for him. “Really, completely, for-good dead. Gone back to the light and all.”

“ _Were_ ,” Ikora helpfully points out. “Razel, how… How did this happen?”

“Wait, wait, _wait._ I _died_? _How_?”

Cubix pulls out of the tangle of sheets he was caught in and flies to them, hovering over Cayde and Razel as if he afraid one of the two is going to keel over and die at any moment.

「It’s a bit of a long story,」 He says, before he tells them everything that happened in those last two weeks.

 

-

 

It _is_ a long story and it takes a _long_ time to explain. Mostly because they keep interrupting. Especially Petra, who was finally warned of the situation and immediately started a video call. She spent the first ten minutes of it crying — just, straight up bawling her eyes out, which was disturbing in its own right.

They ask about how he knew how to get to the Lady,

(“Dunno, intuition I guess? Or my Cayde-sense ringing, maybe.”)

Why he thought cutting a deal with her was a good idea,

(“She told you she was going to go against the law of death, light and nature, and you just… agreed to it?” Holliday asks in disbelief. “ _Guardians_ , I swear.”

Cayde hums under his breath. “You got balls,” he concedes. “I don’t remember what 3 wanted to bargain for, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have done half of what _you_ did to get it.”)

Why he agreed to kill a fellow Lightbearer,

(“For Cayde? I’d have done _anything_ ,” he says. Then, because that’s a bit weird to say, “I did say I wouldn’t kill Ikora, though.”

“But I was fair game?” Zavala asks, more amused than insulted.

“I _can’t_ kill Ikora. You I could if I really, _really_ had to.”

Still, they all look at him a bit weirdly after that. He’s not sure why.)

How he got a list of the rogue lightbearers,

(「Hacking. I’m the smart one, remember?」)

Why he didn’t think to call for help,

(“I was scared you’d try to stop me.”

Petra narrows her eyes. “When, exactly, have I ever been known to _stop_ people from _resurrecting_ the people I love?”

“There’s a first time to everything!”

“You absolute moron. I would have killed her for you and you wouldn’t even have had to risk both your souls in the process.”

A pause. “I think I was supposed to do it alone.”)

How he killed her,

(“With great difficulty,” he says grimly, thinking back to her blood coating his clothes, the pained gasp of her last breath, the bullets going through his body. “And her own knife in the throat.”

“Attaboy,” Cayde whispers, winking at him.)

How he _did it_.

“I don’t know!” He throws his arm up then crosses them over his chest and leans into Cayde. They’re sitting thigh to thigh, Razel fiercely refusing to let him out of his reach for as long as it takes to get used to him being alive again. “I just… I don’t know. Did what she told me to do. Killed a guardian and didn’t die”

Zavala, mostly silent until then, asks, “But it didn’t work, at first.”

Razel stops, thinks about it for a moment. “She didn’t tell me how to actually do it. She said...” Razel hums as he tries to remember her exact wording, a tune he doesn’t remember learning. It was so easy, in the spur of the moment, but the words disappeared with the last of the adrenaline. “Something about being brave, and not blowing this off-”

“You can’t love someone back from the dead,” Cayde supplies. He looks taken aback for a moment, then shakes his head like a dog shaking off water. “Huh, I think I kept a few of your memories there, buddy.”

“Keep ‘em. I got enough to spare.”

It should feel weird, to have been so close, so intimate to someone. To know them inside and out. To know what it’s like to _be_ them. But it feels… natural. Like an extension of their friendship. They _were_ best friends before this whole debacle.

They’re maybe something more, now. But it’s not that much different.

They are suddenly pinned by four inquisitive stares.

“You _can’t_ love someone back from the dead. But you _did_ ,” Petra says.

“Fuck _can’t_. I’m Razel, I do what I want. And I wanted Cayde back more than anything in the world.”

Cayde doesn’t fool anyone when he replies, “Aww, buddy, you _do_ care!” He’s choked up and they can all hear it.

Of course Razel cares. He cares too much, and he holds grudges, and he has a competitive streak a mile wide. How anyone believe he would let _can’t_ stop him is beyond them.

“That doesn’t explain how… _this_ happened,” Ikora says. She sounds wary, like it sounds too good to be true. In a way, it is. 

She waves toward their faces — no, their eyes. Their mismatched, matching eyes. Their left eye is unchanged, but their right eye is… switched. Cayde’s is golden-orange, the color of Razel’s eyes, and Razel’s is blue, Cayde’s color.

It’s. Strange, to look them in the eyes like that. It’ll take some getting used to.

「I think it’s because I kept healing Razel, after we… _dealt_ with Sevi. I tried to heal him as little as I could, but… yeah, I still had to keep him alive. That must have sped up the whole ‘weaving’ process, stuck some of Cayde in Razel and vice-versa. Hence the shared memories, too.」

They both giggle at the wording. Cubix sighs, aggravated.

Cayde gasps. “That sounds _exactly_ like Ikora.”

“I know, right?”

“That’s her ‘I can’t believe I have to work with those people’ sigh.”

Razel shakes his hand in a so-so movement. “Nah, more like her ‘I’m surrounded by idiots’ sigh.”

“Well. There’s some artistic liberty taken there, that’s for sure.”

They chatter away about the many variants of Ikora’s sighing, everyone else forgotten, just like that. Petra give them one look, declares that with safely Cayde back in the realm of the living she still has an assassination to plan, and logs off. Holliday pats Cayde on the shoulder and half-runs back to the docks to have a good cry in a ship, probably. Zavala and Ikora, knowing the two of them better than anyone, just leaves. The way they are right now, they’re not paying attention to anything but each other.

Cayde, of course, notices they’re alone as soon as the door closes behind the Vanguard. Razel takes some time.

“And- Oh. They’re gone?” 

He tilts his head curiously, then shrugs. He can always go find them later, to say sorry for running off and killing a lightbearer and needlessly endangering himself, stuff like that. 

He scouts over so he’s facing Cayde, cross legged on the bed while Cayde sits with one leg bent and the other stretched against him. He’s not as laid back as he tries to appear; there’s something on his mind that he tries to hide with overly loose movements and responses too lighthearted to be entirely sincere. Razel ignores it, for now, because he has stuff to say. 

“For real though, I’m… I’m glad you’re back. Really, really glad.” Softer, he adds, “I really missed you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back.”

Cayde’s eyes go soft at the words. He rests one hand on the nape of Razel’s neck, dragging him forward until his head is resting against his chest, and run his fingers through his hair again. Razel seems to enjoy it, going from the way he goes lax in his hold.

“You should have known even the grave couldn’t keep me from coming back to beat your ass at cards,” he jokes.

Razel hums, somewhat troubled. “It’s not that, though. I’m glad you’re back because you’re my friend, of course, but… I’m glad you’re back because I love you, too. Not that I don’t love Ikora and Zavala and everyone else, you know? It’s just not the same kinda love.”

Cayde has gone tense at his words, his hand stilling in his hair.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me back,” Razel continues in a rush, shrugging lightly. “But I _do_ care that you know I love you. I’m in love with you. I only just got it, so I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but- yeah. That’s a thing that’s been going on for a while, apparently.”

Cayde thinks about it for a moment, going through past missions together and drunk, emotional conversations in the dark of the night, and thinks, _damn, yeah, apparently it has_. Quickly followed by, _how the fuck did I not notice earlier_.

Apparently it took some very-near-death experience to realize Razel’s obvious, gigantic crush on him. They deserve each other, two huge idiots like they are.

He looks up at the ceiling and thinks about it some more. He’s… yeah, he’s kind of attracted to Razel, in retrospect. Kind of a lot actually. He’s a fun, reckless, heroic machine of death and chaos. That’s hot. And even just physically he’s a hot guy, under all the blood.

Does he _love_ him, though?

Of course. He’s his best friend. They would and did die for each other.

But… is he _in love_ with Razel?

He likes spending time with him. He misses him when he’s gone, so he calls him regularly just to chat while Razel is killing stuff and running across the solar system. He’s a lot of fun to be around. They respect each other. He—

Cayde starts running his fingers through his hair again. He rests his chin over Razel’s head and says, very low, just in case someone is listening, “I’m really, really glad you brought me back. I’d miss you if I were dead.”

It’s not really a confession, but… He’ll get there.

Eventually.

Meanwhile Razel smiles. He can feel it, in the part of himself that stubbornly refuses to let go of that corner of soul he hid himself in for a while.

He _gets_ it. That’s good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> “You can summon a ghost. It has to come to you unbidden; if you want it, it can't haunt you” and “You can’t love someone back from the dead” come from the poem  
> [Foxhole](https://nathanielorion.tumblr.com/post/159609281143/foxhole) by nathaniel orion g.k. i can't recommend his poems enough 
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/absolyon), come say hi! i love me some attention


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